The girl who lived
by Centaurprincess
Summary: "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Lily saw the green jet of light hit her face as she shielded Harry; and she expected to see no more, hear no more. But to her enormous astonishment, she saw the curse rebound at Voldemort himself, as the tall wizard fell down to the floor in a lifeless heap, while her own forehead seared with the pain of a fresh scar.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. Recognisable parts taken from 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows'.

**The Girl who lived**

He walked up to the cottage where they stayed; his black robes billowing around him, his heart leaping with joy. He knew that they wouldn't be able to hide from him forever.

He was Voldermort. Lord Voldemort! And even if they hadn't made the whimpering Pettigrew the secret-keeper, he would have tracked them down anyway.

But they had played right into his hands. Instead of sticking to Sirius Black, who- though he hated to admit it- was a powerful wizard who would have given him a tough fight, the Potters had chosen Pettigrew, the sniffling rat.

He would probably have preferred them making Black the secret-keeper. He had dueled with Black four times, and Black had escaped with his life each time- heavily injured, but alive. And torturing Black till he revealed the location of the Potters would have gladdened him to no end. He despised Black at times. Black had everything that he, Lord Voldemort wanted- the purest of blood running through his veins; he was an Heir to a bloodline which had existed since centuries. And he had been blessed with parents who had taught him the pure-blood way of life, taught him that the rightful place of Muggles and Mudbloods was below pure-bloods.

But Black had thrown away all that he had; he had rejected Voldemort's offer to join him. And torturing Black till he gave away the Potter's location would have been perfect. Even Bellatrix would have been happy. He could perhaps have left Black's tortured body for her to kill.

But the Potters had made Pettigrew the secret-keeper; they had put their faith in the wrong person. And now they would pay for it with the life of their son. They would pay for daring to conceive a son who was prophesised to bring about his end. He laughed aloud at the thought. A little boy, born of a Mudblood, would end the greatest wizard of all times. The very idea of it was laughable!

They would pay for having outwitted him thrice-Three times he had tried to kill them, and three times they had survived. And he intended to ensure that they would survive this time as well. He only wanted their son.

Harry Potter they had named him. A nasty common name, rather like his own name had been once. But he wouldn't think of that. He was Lord Voldemort, not Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was the descendant of Salazar Slytherin. And once he finished off the boy tonight, he would be the master of all of Britain, and then gradually, of the entire world.

He finally reached his destination. And he made less noise than the dead leaves slithering along the pavement as he drew level with the dark hedge, and peered over it. They had not drawn the  
curtains; he saw them quite clearly in their little sitting room, the tall black haired man in his glasses, making puffs of colored smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of the small, black-haired boy in his blue pajamas. The child was laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in his small hands.

He stared at the boy for a long moment. What was so special about the boy? He couldn't see anything in the boy that marked him as his enemy, as his vanquisher. He could see the boy's vivid green eyes even from this relative distance. He had messy black hair, like his father's. He looked just like James Potter- the very James Potter, who had refused to join his death-eater ranks. The very James Potter, who, just like Sirius Black, had tarnished the pure blood running through his veins for the Mudblood girl. A single curse from his wand would finish off Potter in a trice. But that wasn't really needed, was it? All Potter had to do, was hand over his son. Lord Voldemort did not want to spill pure blood; and then there was the added advantage of Potter turning mad with grief at his son's death, making him more amenable to being Imperiused. One Imperious curse was all it would take to make Potter join his followers. And James Potter, renowned Auror having joined Lord Voldemort, would weaken whatever little resistance was left in his detractors.

A door opened and the mother entered, saying words he could not hear, her long dark-red hair falling over her face. Now the father scooped up the son and handed him to the mother. He threw his wand down upon the sofa and stretched, yawning.

That was Lily Evans- the girl Severus had fallen for. What was so special about her? Long red hair, the same green eyes as her son, a kindly face… What did she have within her that had made a grumpy fellow like Severus fall for her? She was a powerful witch, of course, despite her filthy ancestry; but she seemed to have nothing which would make a man like Severus 'love' her. Not that, he, Lord Voldemort, knew anything about love. Love didn't exist. All that existed was power. Love was something that only fools like Dumbledore believed in.

But he wouldn't kill the Mudblood girl unless he really had to. He had told Severus that he would keep her alive. And he intended to do so, unless she made things difficult and he would be forced to kill her. Severus could have her; he could have her as his reward for having conveyed the Prophecy to him.

But the little boy was his. Today would mark the end of Harry Potter, no matter what.

He was over the threshold as Potter came sprinting into the hall. It was easy, too easy, he had not even picked up his wand.  
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" He heard Potter Senior scream, his hazel eyes wide with terror. Voldemort laughed aloud.

"You think you can hold me off without even a wand, Potter?"

His shrill laugh permeated through the silence, marred only by Potter's loud heartbeats and the sound of the Mudblood piling up furniture against the door, as if a few pieces of wood could stop a great wizard like him!

"I'll do what I can to stop you harming my family!" Potter spat at him, and the terror in his hazel eyes was replaced by a steely glint, a strange determination.

"All I want is your son, Potter! I do not wish to spill blood, especially blood as pure as yours. Give me your son. And join my ranks. And you will get power greater than you had ever dreamt of," he replied.

"I would die than join a monster like you!" snarled Potter, his eyes blazing with rage.

"I give you another chance, Potter. Join my ranks and give me your son. And then you can live."

"Hell will freeze over before I'll let you harm my son, you bast-" Potter swore at him, but his voice in mid-word as the jet of body-bind curse found its mark and hit James Potter right in his chest. And he fell down at the foot of the stairs, as Voldemort walked past him, to climb up the stairs to kill the boy.

James lay on the floor, motionless; his glasses askew with the force of him having fallen down. But he could hear what was happening. He could hear Voldemort forcing the door open. And he knew that all that lay between his family and their deaths were a few chairs and boxes that he had heard Lily pile up against the door.

He had to wake up! He couldn't let them die! He tried to move, but he couldn't. He could hear Lily pleading with Voldemort, as he told her that he would let her live if she handed over the Harry to him. And James knew that Lily would never give in to Voldemort. And Voldemort's patience would last only this long till he would cave in and kill Lily. He had to save her. And he had to save Harry.

He was a wizard! And though he hadn't been too adept at wandless magic, he knew that he could throw off the body-bind if he tried hard enough. He called out to the magic within him, the magic that swirled through his very body, that flowed through his blood. And he found his magic responding to him as he desperately tried to throw off the spell, till finally, with the greatest effort that it had ever cost him, he was free of the body-bind; and he stood up, ignoring his aching joints; and sped up the stairs.

"Stand aside, you silly girl!" He heard Voldemort order Lily.

"No…mercy…please, not Harry…not Harry…"

James rushed up the stairs, two at a time, hoping that Voldemort would hear his footsteps and turn his attention to James instead, which would give Lily time to escape with Harry. But Voldemort seemed too engrossed in his aim of getting to Harry.

"AVADA—"

"Noooo!" James screamed, and before Voldemort could complete the curse, he lunged at him from behind him; and deflected the curse; the green jet of light hitting the window sill.

"How dare you, Potter!" Voldemort snarled as his red eyes glared at James, who stood between Lily and Harry, and Voldemort; as Harry, who seemed to have noticed that something was wrong, started whimpering.

"Courage! You are indeed very courageous, Potter," snarled Voldemort as he stood up, his wand held tightly in his thing, slender fingers; and raised at the three Potters.

"I value courage, Potter. And it takes a lot of gumption to stand up to Lord Voldemort. You would do wonders with the kind of courage that you possess. I give you a last chance, Potter. Join me and give me your son; and your wife and you can live."

James stood silent, as he held both his arms wide, as if to shield Lily and Harry from Voldemort, as he held off Lily's desperate attempts to push James off and face Voldemort herself. He knew that Lily would rather die, than watch James dying. And he knew that once he refused Voldemort, the green jet of light would hit him in a trice. But Lily had to survive. Harry needed a mother. And he knew that come what may, Lily would save Harry. And then Sirius would take care of them. Sirius may have been a rather reckless and at times short-tempered rebel, but James knew that he would care for Lily and Harry as best as he could.

"James…James…let me go…" Lily cried as she tried to move forward, wanting to do something, anything at all, that would save her husband and son.

"I love you, Lily," he whispered.

"How touching, Potter! But I want your reply," Voldemort laughed evilly, as Lily struggled against James.

James looked at Voldemort right in the eye.

"No! I will never-"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The curse hit James before he could even complete his sentence and he fell down to the floor in a crumpled heap.

"JAMES!" Lily's gut-wrenching cry rang out through the silence in the house.

She wanted nothing better than to sink down to the floor and gather James in her arms, nothing better than to rouse him. He couldn't die. He couldn't leave her behind. He _knew_ that she couldn't live without him. He couldn't leave her, he just couldn't. All she wanted now was to depart the world like James had. She would follow him; he was the love of her life, the one man she loved above all. And all she wanted to do, was to lie down dead beside him, unite with him in the after-life.

But the soft sniffling of Harry behind her brought her to her senses, and she stood resolutely, shielding her son from the red-eyed monster that stood before her.

"I give you a chance as well, girl. Give me your son, and you can live," snarled Voldemort, his wand pointing into Lily's face.

"Mama! Mama!" she heard Harry whimpering.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered at her son, who was tugging at her long hair that trailed down to her waist. She knew that he was trying to stand up, holding on to her hair and the bars of his crib for support. And all she could do, was hope that he would remember that his parents gave their life for him, because they loved him.

"Never," she whispered, staring defiantly Voldemort's eyes, though all she wanted was to look away from the red gleam in his orbs. But she was a Gryffindor. And she was a Potter. She would die with a smile on her face. She would meet death proudly, like James had.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

She saw the jet of light hit her face before she heard the words, heard part of the house blow up with the force of the magic that the spell contained. And she had expected that Harry's wails to be the last thing that she would hear.

But to her enormous astonishment, she saw the curse rebound at Voldemort himself, as the tall wizard fell down to the floor and stirred no more.

She paid no heed to the trickle of blood that flowed down her forehead, nor to the fresh scar that seared with acute pain. Nor did she care that the vilest wizard of all times lay down on the floor in a lifeless heap. She didn't even care that she was the first person ever to survive the killing curse.

All she did was gather Harry in her arms, and collapse onto the floor, cradling the lifeless head of her husband on her lap, while Harry tried to rouse his father, probably wanting him to show him the pretty lights that erupted from the end of his wand again.

"James…" she whispered, not even realising the tears that flowed freely down her face.

"James…" she whispered again, as she pressed a kiss onto the cold, unresponsive lips of the man who had given his very life to save hers; before falling into a swoon, oblivious to Harry's little hands shaking her own hands, trying to wake up his mother.

And that was how Sirius Black found them later- his best friend dead on the floor, his best friend's wife lying beside him, her forehead smeared with blood; and his little Godson crying loudly for his parents.


	2. Chapter 2

I had originally intended for this to be a one-shot, but I'm going to continue this story, thanks to a few ideas that cropped up. Hope you like this chapter, as well. :-)

**Guest, Helena, harrypotter, Guest, Guest, Potterhead999** and **Charmedfanforeva-** Thanks a ton for the reviews and encouragement

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill. It all belongs to J. K. Rowling

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"NOOOO!"

Sirius' loud scream echoed through the walls of the empty hideout, which till a few hours ago, had housed Peter Pettigrew. Hell! He'd checked on Peter that very morning, as he did every day; ensured that Peter was safe, that he had enough provisions to sustain him through the days that he would have to remain hidden; he had even recast the wards that would prevent intruders from entering the small house that housed Peter. So how the hell was Peter missing?

Sirius had searched every inch of Peter's hideout. But the house was entirely devoid of human presence. Pettigrew was nowhere to be seen. And more importantly, there seemed to be no signs of struggle; which implied that Peter had gone willingly. A couple of quick spells reinforced his hunch, as he noticed that there was no sign of any magical trace in the hideout. And Peter wasn't supposed to l eave the house! He was supposed to remain hidden; which could only mean one thing: Peter had willingly walked out into danger, endangering James' location.

It was then that the truth suddenly hit him like the Slytherin beater's well-aimed Bludger, which had once smacked him in the back of his head. For days, he had suspected Remus of being the spy in the Order, but it seemed that the spy was Peter! How had Sirius been so naïve? How had they all been so stupid! Of course, it was Pettigrew!

Peter was the one who always scampered towards the biggest bully in the playground…Peter was the one who used to be away for days on end…and why! Peter was the perfect spy! Who would have suspected puny Peter Pettigrew, who couldn't tell one end of his wand from the other, of being a spy? They had known that there was a spy within the Order since the past few weeks. They knew that information was being leaked out to the death-eaters, information that had led to the McKinnons being decimated; that had forewarned the death-eaters about the Order's moves.

And people had suspected Remus, because of his lycanthropy and because Werewolves were consideredto be Dark creatures. Sirius himself had suspected Remus.

People had even raised questions on Sirius' loyalty in the most recent Order meeting, thanks to the Blacks' age-old fascination with the Dark Arts and their blood supremacist views. But nobody, nobody at all had even had a tiny wee doubt over Peter's loyalties.

And like a witless idiot, Sirius had suggested that James make Peter the secret-keeper! And James had done exactly that, believing as Sirius had done, that nobody would suspect that Peter was the secret-keeper!

Sirius' feet rushed out of the door of the house, before he even realised that he had been running. He held out his wand, intending to apparate, but he put it down the very next second. His hands were trembling like never before, his heartbeats were speeding up…he was scared for James, for Lily…and most of all, for little Harry. Never in his life had he been this scared, this worried.

He put one leg up his motorbike, and before he was even settled in properly on the dragon-leather seat, the bike was already speeding away, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. It took him hardly three minutes to reach James' cottage at Godric's Hollow, as he urged the bike to speed through the air, faster than it ever had, faster than he had ever thought it was possible of speeding; uncaring that the Muggles below would notice, and that he would be tried for risking the knowledge of the existence of magic to the Muggle world.

His breath seemed to die in his lungs, as his eyes fell upon James' house that now had the top part of it blown away. He got off the bike, not even bothering to put off the engine. And he rushed into the house, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, as each step that he took seemed to echo through the eerie silence in the house.

"Jamie! Lily!" he called out, as he saw James' wand lying on the table, while his sight fell on an upturned table next to the stairs, which looked like it had been pushed away in someone's haste to get up to the stairs. The Auror part of his mind- that somehow seemed to be distinct from the part that was bursting to the brim with worry and with a strange sense of foreboding- realised that it was James or Lily who must have rushed up the stairs, because he couldn't see Voldemort- who prided himself on being above ordinary things like running and sprinting- rushing up the stairs. But that observation seemed to have been registered by a part of his mind that though he knew was a part of him, seemed to belong to someone else entirely.

"JAM—Damn!" Sirius' swore mid-word as he stumbled over what seemed like a prostrate body and the hand which wasn't holding his wand arrested his fall. But as his shocked eyes fell on the body over which he had stumbled, his hand gave way anyway, and his head hit the ground with a thud; unable to believe what he was seeing. And he was up the very next instant, his wand pointing at what seemed like the lifeless body of the darkest wizard of all times.

"Circe's wand! He's dead!" he gasped as a quick spell confirmed that Voldemort was indeed dead; his red eyes seemed devoid of their usual malicious gleam as they stared at the blown-off roof, unseeing, unobserving.

But just as Sirius wondered over what exactly had happened in that room, he let out the most ear-splitting scream he had ever uttered as he spotted the other corpse lying a few meters away.

"JAMES!" he shrieked, as he rushed towards James' lifeless body, and gathered it in his arms.

"James! Wake up! Rennervate! Rennervate!" he shouted, even though a part of him knew that James was dead. Innumerable times had he seen lifeless bodies of witches and wizards he had known all his life; and more than half the times, it had been James, who had helped Sirius get the bodies out of the attack sites. But today, even as he recognised the slight numbness, the slight coldness that had taken over James's body, that confirmed he was dead, Sirius refused to believe it. James couldn't die. He just couldn't die! They had sworn that they would both stay together until the very end; that they would die together either as courageous Aurors in a blaze of glory, taking down as many death-eaters as they could; or in their beds as wizened old men surrounded by their respective families (if Sirius ever managed to settle down with a steady girl, James had said jokingly). And James Potter had never once broken a promise he'd made to Sirius Black.

He shook James's body, as if willing him to wake up, to open his eyes and laugh at Sirius, to tell him that he was just feigning death…as a prank to scare the wits out of Sirius.

"Please, Prongs! Jamie! You can't die—you can't—Noooooo!" he shrieked loudly again, not even registering that Harry's cries had joined his.

"Wake up, James—please just get up," he mumbled, not even noticing the tears trailing down his face. But even as he pleaded with James to wake up, he knew that James would never awaken. James had never ever kept Sirius waiting, never had he refused to give in to Sirius' entreaties, and never had he let Sirius cry.

He cried over and over again, mourning the loss of the one friend whom he would have readily died for, for the one man who was more of a family to him than his own family had ever been.

And it was then that he suddenly heard the soft cry.

"Pa'foot! Pa'foooot!"

"Harry!" he gasped, cursing himself for having been so absorbed in grieving for James, that he hadn't even spared a thought for Harry, for Lily. And it was only when he looked at the source of the childish voice calling out to him that he noticed Lily lying hardly a foot away from James, seemingly dead.

It would only be years later that he would wonder about how he hadn't spotted her unconscious form lying merely a few feet from where he had been sitting with James' body cradled in his arms; about how he hadn't heard seen a sniffling Harry's tear-streaked face staring at Sirius, as he held his arms out for his Godfather to hold him. But that would be years later.

Presently, he lowered James gently on to the floor, and rushed to Harry, picking up the toddler in his arms.

"Padfoot's here, kiddo! I won't let anything happen to you," he mumbled, as he peppered the little boy's face with kisses, wondering how he had survived when James, Lily and Voldemort hadn't.

"Pa'foot! Hally want Mama! Mama no wake!" said Harry in between his sniffles, as he extended his arms towards Lily's prostrate form. And it was then that Sirius noticed the slight rise and fall of Lily's chest.

"LILY!" he shouted in relief, as he kept Harry onto the floor swiftly, and clasped her wrist, elated to see a pulse.

"Rennervate! Rennervate!" he shouted, willing her to wake up, as he brushed off the blood that seeped from her forehead, gasping as he saw a lightening-shaped scar beneath the congealed blood.

"Come on, Lily! Wake up! Rennervate!" Sirius said again, urging her to wake up, as Harry, meanwhile, crawled up to James, wanting his father to take him into his arms, little knowing that his father would never again look lovingly at him with his bright hazel eyes.

It was a moment later that Sirius saw Lily's eyelids flutter open, as looked into his own grey orbs.

"Sirius! What happ—JAMES!" she shrieked, as she suddenly recollected what had happened.

She made to get up, and failed; and Sirius helped her stand up shakily to her feet, his eyes moistening all over again as he saw the deeply entrenched sorrow on her face, the tears cascading down her eyes.

"He's dead, Sirius! He's gone! He's gone! He left me—Vol—Voldemort killed him! He's gone—" she shrieked, as she fell onto her knees beside James' corpse.

"Mamma!" said Harry happily, as Lily lifted him into her arms and the pajama-clad boy buried his face into his mother's chest; her tears falling into his messy black-hair which he had inherited from his father.

"Daddy sleep, Mamma? Me want Daddy," said Harry innocently, his voice muffled against Lily's clothes.

And it was then that Sirius' heart twisted with pain all over again, as Lily erupted into gut-wrenching cries; cries that made Sirius unable to fathom how to console her. Never had he seen Lily in such agony, never had he thought the level-headed girl capable of losing herself so completely in her grief.

"James…James…" she kept mumbling under her breath, as hugged James' lifeless form, uncaring that she was almost crushing Harry, uncaring of Harry's cries.

Sirius stood rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do. He had lost his friend, his brother…but Lily had lost the one man that she had loved with all her heart.

"Lily, we need to get out of here," he said, as he fell onto his knees, and somehow extracted Harry from Lily's tight hold over him. "Come on, Lily. Please," he said, as he held Harry with one hand, and managed to pull Lily into his arms with the other.

"He's gone, Sirius…he's gone," she sobbed, as he put his arms around her shivering form and she sobbed even harder into his Auror robes, as Harry patted her head clumsily.

"Mamma cry," said the boy sadly; and suddenly Sirius felt a strange foreboding feeling creeping up his spine.

He pushed away his grief, although knowing that it would never go away till the day he lived. But he pushed it away nevertheless, willing his brain to work, to sketch out the next steps to be taken.

Voldemort was dead. And Sirius knew that he needed to take the body to the Auror Headquarters before any death-eaters came in looking for their master.

"Damn!" he swore, as he suddenly realised that they weren't safe here, at all.

If Lily and James, both had perished, Peter would certainly have run away and taken refuge somewhere in his rodent form, knowing that Sirius would be blamed for betraying the Potters, as the Order thought that Sirius was the secret-keeper.

But with Lily having survived, she would testify in the Wizengamot that Peter was the secret-keeper and not Sirius. And Peter wouldn't be safe at all, whether in his rat form or in his human one, since Sirius would certainly tell the Aurors of Peter's Animagus form.

And Peter's best bet now was to come to Godric's Hollow to kill Lily and wipe off the last witness who knew of who the real secret-keeper was. Knowing what Peter had done, Sirius didn't put it beyond Peter to kill Lily to save his own skin. But Peter wasn't brave enough to stand up to Lily alone. She was a far more powerful witch than he was a wizard. And what Peter would do was to come accompanied by death-eaters, who would certainly kill Lily and Harry for having had a hand in finishing Voldemort off.

"Bloody Hell! Lily, we need to get out of here!" he screamed; his quick mind having worked it all out in barely a few seconds.

"NO! I'm going nowhere without James!" she snapped at him, her eyes red-rimmed.

"Don't be stupid, Lily!" he retorted rather harshly than he had intended to. "The death-eaters will be here any moment!"

"I'm not—" Her words died in her throat as she heard quick footsteps rushing up the stairs; and she looked into Sirius' eyes, both knowing that it was certainly the death-eaters.

He pulled her to her feet quickly, his eyes wide with terror as he realised that they had no way of escape; the only door to the room led to the staircase that the death-eaters were ascending. It took Sirius a moment to realise that he couldn't leave James' corpse there, for the death-eaters would make certain to destroy it rather than let James have an honourable burial.

And nor could he leave Voldemort's body there, because the Ministry would never believe that Voldemort was dead unless they saw his lifeless corpse. And death-eaters like Bellatrix and Malfoy would certainly carry on Voldemort's activities under the Dark Lord's name with no one being the wiser, for people would assume that Voldemort was still alive with no corpse to prove his death.

He grabbed Lily to his chest, as she held Harry tightly, intending to side-along apparate them and freezing when he realised that anti-disapparition jinxes had already been cast by the death-eaters.

"DAMN!" he swore, knowing that they seemed to have no way to escape. He had been such a fool! Such an idiot! Instead of taking Lily and Harry to safety, he had cried over James' body and wasted precious time. And now, if he failed to save Lily and Harry, he knew that he would never be able to forgive himself. And James would certainly strangle him to a second death, when he reached the after-life, for letting his wife and son be killed.

"Sirius," gasped Lily as she stared fearfully at the door, her breath hitching in her throat.

"Well, well, well! What have we here? My little cousin!" sneered Bellatrix Lestrange, her wand raised at them; while four death-eaters stood behind her, including a trembling, watery-eyed Peter Pettigrew.


End file.
